Fan Fiction ❯ A Dead Man's Heart ❯ The Child ( Chapter 1 )

Summery: Ryan Kuhn, a ruthless, vicious and insane ghost of a rapist, haunts the burnt down remains of Borehamwood Insane Asylum. But what if, years before the movie, before he was `the Jackal', he met a child? Meet Ragena Reaves, the only thing Ryan somewhat cares about…

 

Disclaimer: I own this plot, story, and Ragena. Ryan belongs to whoever created him, and “Voodoo”, The `Kindergoths' toy, belongs to Bleeding Edge Inc.

 

Author's Note: Alright guys… I have the dvd and you have no idea how many times I've watched the `Ghost Files', nor how obsessed I am with this movie. I admit that I don't know all there is to know about `Thirteen Ghosts'. Although Ryan caring about something seems relatively out of the question, realize that this is a fanfic created by a rabid and very stubborn plot bunny that refused to leave the hollow of my bed.

 

Reviews and flames are both welcomed with open arms. At the moment I don't care if you have to tell me that this story sucked or if your actually just saying you read it. Whatever you have to say will be noted. And any criticism is always greeted with my smile.

 

Thanks for reading even this far

-StraitJacket

 

 

 

Chapter 1: The child

 

 

A silence had cast it self over the remains of Borehamwood Asylum. Every once and again its flame-licked walls and warped floors creaked and outside the wind howled longingly. There hadn't been anyone there for a while now.

 

A man lay out lazily on and old window seat that the fire had miraculously spared decades ago. He was deathly pale and had long jet-black hair that fell raggedly past his shoulders through rusty bars. Locked around his head was an old rusted cage, the bars in front had melted and been pulled away from his face. The cage it self was locked to the old straitjacket he wore, it was half ripped, half burnt away from his body. The belts used to bind the arms of a patient were useless; the strong leather strips were melted and torn so that they hung worthlessly from the sleeves. Icy blue eyes glared at the room around him.

 

The man's name was Ryan Kuhn. The rapist born in 1887 and died in the fire of 1911. With his last remaining sanity, Ryan committed himself to the asylum in 1908, in the hopes of getting help for his… appetite for women.

 

But the `doctors' made everything worse. They locked him in a padded cell and bound him in a straitjacket, but he gnawed through the sleeves and got loose constantly. Tired of Ryan tearing through the jackets and attacking orderlies and unfortunately nurses, they locked his head in the cage and tied his arms tighter each time he acted out. Soon they put him in one of the basement cells.

 

Years in the darkness ate away at him, and he began to hate almost all Human contact. Almost. After a while, no female staff members were allowed downstairs.

 

 

The wraith sat up. He'd heard something downstairs.

 

The noise echoed up to him again and Ryan realized it was the heavy entrance doors of the asylum creaking open and closed. He phased down into the lobby and looked for the source of the noise. He hoped it was a full-figured blonde… Yes, there hadn't been anyone at the asylum for a while.

 

An old desk sat to his right, two of its side legs missing so that it looked like it was kneeling to the door. Old filing cabinets sat behind the desk and chairs rested against the walls to his left, some decaying and blackened by smoke.

 

Ryan stood in the middle of the lobby and curiously looked around. There was nothing but the smoke-stained chairs and lopsided desk. Confused, he turned around and saw what had caused the racket.

 

A child sat in a dark corner of the lobby with her knees drawn up to her chest. Had he not been used to everything and knew the norm of the asylum, he would have missed the kid entirely. The girl couldn't have been over eight years old. She had tan skin, pale brown hair that went to her waist and green eyes. Her clothes seemed to be too big for her small frame. She was holding her upper arm and a bruise was forming under her left eye.

 

Ryan stood over the child, not completely understanding why this kid was there and not a young, ignorant blonde. He turned as the doors opened again and a tall, big man stumbled in. Ryan could make out the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

 

“Come on Ragena… Where are ya, ya lil bitch?” The man suddenly laughed. “Look Ragena, Daddy's got yer toy!”

 

He held up the black thing he was holding. It was an odd looking cat with large, lime-colored eyes, one eye had a snake like pupil, and the left had an orange swirl. It had white stitches in random places and a spiked collar. The muzzle was an odd shade of green and it had a ring in its crooked nose.

 

The man threw the toy across the room and howled out, “I KNOW YER HERE, GODAMMIT!”

 

Ryan was about to attack as the man neared the corner. He looked back, shocked, as he felt something grab his sleeve and saw the girl looking up at him.

 

“Don't let him find me. Please don't let him find me…” She whispered, dark green eyes looking directly into his.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

For a picture of what the toy looks like go to: http://coasttocoastcollectibles.com/bleeding_edge_kindergoths_ series_1.html

 

Please review, it would be much appreciated.

-StraitJacket